


Elysium

by DraconAsahara



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: AU, London, Modern Era, Multi, Star Wars References, Superheroes, Villains, dear lord this is gonna be a clusterfuck, grey moralities, likely some blood and gore later, longfic, more to be added as story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-03 04:19:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11524413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DraconAsahara/pseuds/DraconAsahara
Summary: Finally returning to London after five years of involuntary globe-trotting, Allen Walker finds himself confronted with new possibilities, old friends and the normal and not-so normal troubles when trying to built a life for himself.And then there is of course that superhero business...





	1. Homecoming

 

**Homecoming**

Five years.

It had been five years since Allen Walker had last set foot into London and, as he exited his train in the middle of Victoria Station, he felt himself suddenly bombarded with an unexpected amount of nostalgia.

Everything – from the brick-stone styled walls, to the small Boots shop at the side of the station, to the dreary, overcast sky – evoked in him some deep-seated emotion that lay somewhere between familiarity and longing. And while not completely unexpected, it still surprised him in both its intensity and timing. He had, after all, spent the last five years of his life traveling all around the world without succumbing to homesickness, only to find himself buried beneath whatever emotions he had apparently repressed during the last few years upon his eventual return.

Maybe he had really missed this place more than he had thought.

Watching a couple of chavs in sweatpants fight over where to go for a drink, he felt a little like crying even.

Allen would have probably stayed standing where he was to wallow in his emotions for a good five longer, had one of the other passengers not pushed against him from behind, telling him in clipped tones to “get a move on” because he was “blocking the bloody exit”.

It was truly beautiful to be back.

\----------

Had Allen ever mentioned how much he _hated London_?

Well, maybe no London per sé, but definitely the labyrinth from hell that called itself the London Underground.

It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate public transport, even one that was as cramped and stifling as the tube. In a city like London, with its high population, narrow streets and non-existent parking spots, any form of public transportation was not only welcomed but practically a god-sent. No, really he liked the local system, having grown up with it for most of his childhood and remembering quite it fondly. Fighting over upper deck seats in the coach, queueing up in front of the doors, flipping of the voice telling him to ‘mind the gap’ and overstepping the line on purpose, all very nice memories - especially when compared to his experiences with some other countries’ ideas of public transport!

And yet.

_And yet!_

Whoever had designed the map to the London Underground was obviously evil. Or on drugs. Possibly both. There was no way this abomination of a map was unintentional. It also didn’t help that the map he was currently looking up included rail _and_ tube services.

Now, Allen knew he didn’t have the best sense of orientation, but he was pretty sure he could not be the only person despairing over this _map from hell_. Too many lines, stations and more lines. Just looking at it made him dizzy and it had taken him a good five minutes to even locate his desired stop, despite logically knowing that it was slightly north-west of Victoria.

He had, so far, gotten out at three wrong stops, two of them somehow located _south_ of the Thames rather than north. This amounted to him having spent the better part of the last hour underground and for a trip that should have taken him no more than fifteen minutes at that. Glaring down at the map in his lap Allen felt certain that someone – probably the whole universe - was just having a laugh at his expense. He could even hear the laughter in his mind, calling him that he was “ _just being a big baby!”_ while another, similar voice told him that it wasn’t that hard at all.

_“Come here Allen, I will show you how to read it! Then maybe you will stop getting lost so much” the boy smiled at him kindly, trying but failing to supress the amusement in his voice._

Shaking his head, Allen forced himself back into reality.

It really wasn’t the time to let himself get distracted, he would only end up missing his stop. Again.

As the train finally came to a hold and a voice over the intercom loudly announced ‘Marble Arch’ Allen felt both relief at finally arriving at the right stop and a little vindication at having overcome whatever cosmic joke was being played on him. Snatching his trolly he quickly got off the train and made his way towards the stairs and the promise of some fresh air.

Lucky for Allen it still hadn’t started raining, but judging from the air pressure and the dark grey clouds hanging above this wouldn’t be the case for much longer. Pulling out another slip of paper from his pockets, the teen took a moment to memorize the scribbled directions he had haphazardly written down. According to Cross it shouldn’t be all that far. But then again according to Cross it was also perfectly acceptable to drag a twelve year old half-way across the world and make him pay his bills, so there was that…

After trying and failing to make sense of his own scribblings or gaining a better sense of his current location, the teen decided to resort to plan B - asking for help from the locals. And despite some unexpected complications– he had arrived at Oxford Street and finding someone who actually lived in this part of the city had been surprisingly hard – he eventually found himself at the right address, which was – even more surprisingly – truly only a five minute walk from the station.

Allen could hardly believe his luck when the keys Cross had given him not only fit, but belonged to a nice little apartment in one of the bigger buildings on the street. After living with the man for the last ten years of his live, Allen was reasonably suspicious of any seemingly nice thing the man did for him. He had therefore mentally prepared himself for the possibility to end up at some rundown hovel, no existing address at all or even with some debt collector that Cross still owned money to.

This though? This was a very welcome surprise.

The apartment itself was more than reasonably sized, with two en-suite bedrooms, an open kitchen/living space with a small balcony and a laundry room. Not only was it clean and in good shape, but even the furniture and appliances were surprisingly modern and clearly reflected Cross’s rather expensive taste. Considering local housing prices, the size of the apartment and its position being only minutes from both Hyde Park and Oxford Street... well let’s say Allen was glad he wouldn’t have to pay rent.

He was also a little bitter of course, because _why_ did he have to pay for Cross’s stuff when the man had an apartment that was _worth more than Allen’s life_? But then again, he _had_ always known that the man had more money than he let on. Or rather, money that he did _let on_ but was unwilling to actually spent, preferring to instead rake up impossible amounts of debts to force on his poor charge.

Again, who had ever though allowing Cross to become anyone’s legal guardian was a good idea?

Well not that his adoption had been all that legal, but still…

With a sigh Allen let himself plop down on the bed in the smaller bedroom that was furthest down the corridor. This, he had quickly realized, was obviously supposed to be his room. Or well, at least it was not Cross’s room since that one was quite distinguishable, with being furnished in a black and red colour scheme, having a huge bed, gaudy gold decorations and a Jacuzzi instead of a bathtub. In Allen’s esteemed opinion it looked like something straight out of a porn video. Which, considering Cross’s favourite past-time might not even be all that much a stretch.

Allen would rather die than ever sleep in that bed.

What was now his room on the other hand looked more like a guestroom: white walls and bedsheets, light grey furniture and a distinct lack of personality. Since the apartment was on the top floor of the building, the left side of the ceiling dipped down in the far corner, making the room seem slightly smaller than it actually was. The right wall was taken up by a big double-bed, a nightstand and a wardrobe while the wall on the opposite side had a long desk and the door to the bathroom. Despite the sterility of the room Allen already found himself liking it. It was definitely better than many of the places he had been forced to spend the night at during the previous years and miles better from what he had been initially expecting when Cross offered him the apartment.

Rolling on his back and closing his eyes Allen felt himself slowly relax, the stress of the last few hours slowly draining away. After nearly a full day of traveling all he really felt like doing right now was to take a nap. A low rumble from his stomach however reminded him that it wasn’t time to sleep quite yet. It was Sunday and if he wanted to get groceries before the shops closed up he really needed to get going soon.

Forcing himself back up from the way too comfortable matrass Allen made his way to his trolly in order to unpack his few belongings.

 _‘Kind of sad’_ he thought as he studied the suitcase’s contents ‘ _that my whole life seems to fit into one suitcase. Not that all that travelling we did leave me with much of a choice.’_

But since he was planning on staying in London for more than just a few months he might finally have the chance to rectify his lack of personal possessions. At the very least he would have to get himself some new clothes since his current wardrobe was definitely not built to impress.

After putting all of his things away, Allen took a quick shower before dressing up in fresh clothes. Feeling somewhat less tired and a lot less sweaty (traveling could make everyone feel disgusting and Allen was no exception) he grabbed his wallet and made his way back out of his flat.

Finding his way back to Oxford Street was easy enough since the teen could simply orientate himself on the big, funny looking glass building in the distance.  He was quick to notice however, that despite the endless number of shops lining the street, finding the rare grocery store between them was a little difficult. On the other hand, if he did decide to buy new clothes one of these days he would have a more than enough options.

In the end all Allen found himself to buy food from the only grocery store he was able to locate, a Mark and Spencer’s. Half of him felt like crying at the thirty pound bill he had managed to rake up just for buying food for the rest of the day and maybe breakfast while the other half tried to rea-sure him that it was not like he would go shopping here in the future and that it could have been worse. It could have been Waitrose.

Cross would murder him if he ever found out Allen had decided to go food-shopping in Waitrose.

Or maybe he would just die of starvation since he would likely run out of money a week into the month.

And speaking about money…Allen looked down at his still open wallet. Only one ten pound bill was left from the fifty he had originally gotten at the exchange bureau upon arriving at Victoria. He really needed a proper bank account and maybe a job. And while job hunting in London was hell, he could at least get both those things legally this time around. No more forged papers, fake addresses or lies about his residency status – Allen could finally become a properly employed member of society. Maybe even a taxpayer! Who would have thought? Certainly not him.

“But Ellen!” a voice to his right suddenly exclaimed, startling him out of his thoughts. For a moment he had thought somebody was talking to him, but after glancing to his right he realized that wasn’t the case at all. Two young women had taken over the self-checkout machine next to his, one of them trying to check out a bottle of wine while the other talked animatedly “How can you _not_ like him? He’s so charming and good-looking, never mind a _hero_!”

“I’m not denying that, I’m just saying he isn’t my type” the other girl responded with an eye-roll “Too much of a flirt. And how would you even know what he looks like? He might be butt ugly for all you know.”

“Have you _seen_ him? He’s _hot_!”

“He’s wearing a mask! Just because his body is trained doesn’t mean he also has to be handsome!”

“I would love him anyway” came the rather snobbish sounding response and Allen watched as the two women slowly made their way to the exit “You just don’t understand because you have a thing for _criminals_.” He could barely hear the other argue back that she ‘just preferred gentlemen’ before the doors slid shut behind them.

 _‘Superheroes, huh’_ Allen mused as he picked up his bags, having already blocked his check-out point for longer than necessary _‘wonder which one they were talking about?’_.

And since he was thinking about it…he should probably try to catch up with the local superhero scene anyway. Since he had spent most of the last five years in Asia and the Americas and only visited Europe for short amounts of time as a quasi pit-stop in between, he wasn’t all that familiar with its heroes and villains and their specific dynamics. Considering the sheer popularity both heroes and even some villains seemed to have wherever he went, Allen was pretty sure not knowing who the big players were would leave him at an instant and rather embarrassing disadvantage – socially and otherwise. 

\-----------

Once back in his apartment, Allen quickly stored half of his food in the refrigerator while dropping the other half on the table in front of the couch. While the apartment lacked a proper dining table it did have a bar counter on one side of the kitchen – something that served direct reflection of Cross overall priorities in Allen’s humble opinion.

Honestly the fact that there even was a washing machine, never mind a second bedroom seemed kind of unbelievable considering the man’s character.

 _‘Wonder why there even is a second bedroom here’_ Allen mused as he made himself comfortable on the couch, using the remote to turn on the big flat-screen in front of him. _‘Maybe for guests? But what type of guests would a guy like Cross even get that would need to stay the night? Except women that is. But he sure as hell wouldn’t send those of to another room…’_

Zapping through the channels in search of something remotely interesting to watch, the idea that maybe Cross decided on a second bedroom with Allen in mind crossed his thoughts for a second. Of course that idea was utterly ridiculous and Allen quickly discarded it into a neat mental folder titled ‘no way in hell’.

Finding nothing else of actual interest Allen just left the TV on BBC, watching the news as he tore into his first sandwich. It was by the time he had gotten through his first two packs of sandwiches, a bowl of cup noodles and a bag of crisps when the rather boring business segment of the station was disrupted by a Breaking News alert.

“Whassh thaa” Allen tried to ask himself around the food in his mouth. Forcing himself to swallow properly he reached for the remote to turn up the volume of the TV a little.

 _“From what we can tell at this point in time it appears to be a hostage situation” a_ female reporter explained from what looked like the outside of a bank building. The area in front of the building was empty and secured with white and blue police tape. Officers could be seen walking by in the background from time to time. _“The police has already arrived and currently trying to secure the area.”_

 _“Can you tell us anything more about what is going on inside the building? When did this start?”_ the news-anchor asked back. _“Any idea on the number of hostages or how many assailants there are and what they want?”_

The female reporter shook her head a little _“The bank has been closed off for the last ten minutes and the whole situation probably started around twenty minutes ago. Not official information has been given so far, but some of the people that managed to get out of the building’s lobby reported seeing at least two armed men.”_

_“So you were able to talk to some of the witnesses? What exactly did they say? And armed with what?”_

_“Yes, some of us reporters were able to talk to them for a few minutes but they are currently under police care to give them their statements. At least one person said to have seen a gun, what type and whether or not it’s real is still unclear, but caution is certainly advised. More troublesome however are the report of one woman that claims to have left the building after seeing a man carrying a suspicious looking bag under his arms and acting ‘shifty’.”_

_“Does that mean that explosives may be involved?”_

_“It is possible, but there is no telling us what is inside that bag, so we shouldn’t jump to conclusions. For all we know that man might not even be involved with all of this.”_

Munching on his now second bag of crisps, Allen continued to follow the live broadcast with the slightly morbid fascination that tended to come along naturally when watching negative news.

There was some more Q&A between the reporter and the anchor-man about the specifics of the situation, location, likely motives and speculations about what might happen from here on. Thinking back to the conversation he had overheard earlier in the day Allen wondered if maybe one of the local heroes would show up.

While heroes were certainly popular and often helped out the police, they did neither replace them nor where they employed in every instance of a crime. Long gone were the days of random vigilantism. Or well, at least in western Europe they were. Since every country and region handled their heroes a little differently it was hard to make blanket-statements like these. But in the UK, that much Allen still remembered, heroes worked together with the police and other government agencies.

While not technically employed by the government, heroes were still expected to abide by certain rules and standards such as avoiding or minimizing property damage, not endangering civilian lifes and abiding to orders given to them by professionals.

The last rule specifically had been adapted in many other countries around the world. While individuals working as heroes in their spare-time were given certain benefits in exchange for lending their help – such as keeping their identity a secret, being privy to sensitive information and having a non-civilian status – it was made very clear that their powers did not put them _above_ the law or the reach of legal authorities.

The sheer importance of this – that yes, heroes had to listen to public orders the same way as everyone else – had become obvious when a couple of situation had ended in disastrous outcomes due to some ‘heroes’ ignoring official’s warnings and getting themselves in situations they couldn’t handle. One of them, Allen could vaguely recall had also been a hostage situation similar to the one he was currently watching on TV.

Long story short, being able to shoot laser beams from your hands doesn’t keep the bad guys from shooting their hostages.

While the range of abilities that were useful for hostage situations were not exactly limited –Invisibility, sonar or infra-red vision being some of the more commonly used ones – the question here was really if London had any available heroes with such an ability. The live-broadcast had been going for a good half an hour by now, so the possibility of the news having reached relevant individuals was quite high. Maybe one or two of them would turn up at the very least. It was hard to take an educated guess when he didn’t even know any of London’s heroes.

 _‘I need to get a computer’_ Allen decided in that moment _‘or at least a proper phone with internet access. Google would be a blessing about now.’_

Alas, he didn’t have either of them right now, not having found them all that practical until now. At least not with all the illegal border-crossing he had been forced to do among other things. When being traced was an honest fear of yours, using the same computer or phone for any prolonged amount of time was just not a good idea.

Now he was _settling_ though.

Actually staying in a spot for longer than a few weeks.

No more dingy motels, bars and brothels that he would be forced to stay at because of Cross. No more hop-scotching from one country to the next. And no more waking up surrounded by unfamiliar places, languages and people.

Instead he’d have a home. An actual place of his own.

The idea still felt alien somehow…

Mentally adding a phone on his list of to-buys, Allen stretched out on the couch with a yawn. Blearily looking up at the TV he could barely concentrate on what was being said. It was more as an afterthought that he realized that the reporter was now talking about how police had started negotiations with whoever was in the bank.

 _‘Good for them’_ he thought tiredly, pulling on of the couch-cushions under his head _‘or maybe not…? Ugh can’t think right now…’_

With all the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to him it didn’t even take Allen a full five minutes to slowly drift away to sleep, the TV still blaring on in the background.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t proofread anything lol. Sorry for any faults.
> 
> I’m winging this btw. I mean I have plans but there will also be lots of improvising. No updating schedule cuz I know myself and trust me I’m horrible with deadlines.
> 
> Also sorry not sorry for starting so many random-ass stories haha.
> 
> Here’s a floor plan of Allen’s apartment: http://theannieparadigm.tumblr.com/image/163074700223


	2. Settling In (Between the Past and Future)

 

_“Who are you?” a voice suddenly asked from above him, causing him to open his eyes in surprise._

_Standing there, staring down at Allen and partially blocking the sun with his head, was another boy. around his own age. All wide smile and curious eyes. Ugh._

_“I never saw you before. Are you new here? Were you sleeping? Did I wake you up?”_

_Frowning at the barrage of question, all he managed to ground out a rather unfriendly “sorta”, before pushing himself to sit up. Blades of grass and rye were stuck to his hair and the back of his clothes felt slightly damp from lying on the ground for so long._

_‘It is getting late’ Allen noted as he looked at the lengthening shadows of the few trees around him ‘I should probably go back soon or I’ll be in even more trouble…’_

_“Uh…so…?” the voice of the other boy interrupted his musings. There was a lot of fidgeting going on with that one and for a moment a flash of uncertainty passed over his face._

_Allen on his part, was trying his best to ignore his company and instead focused on untangling the mess that was his hair. He was hopeful that if he didn’t respond, the other boy would get sick of him and leave him alone. It usually didn’t take that long for children to lose interest after all._

_Despite his best effort however the other boy didn’t seem deterred and instead squatted down next to him with a silly smile, his previous doubts seemingly forgotten again._

_‘Happy people are so annoying…’_

_“I’m sorry for waking you up!” he chirped, tilting his head and trying to catch Allen’s eyes “It’s just we don’t get many new people around here. Do you live down in the village?”_

_“ **No** ” Allen practically hissed the word, keeping it short and rude. No point in making the situation worse by encouraging this overly friendly behaviour._

_“…oh” this at least seemed to throw the other off for a moment and for a moment Allen thought he was going to leave. But to Allen’s annoyance he still didn’t seem to get the hint, as he quickly brightened up again. What was wrong with that one?_

_“Anyway, it’s nice to meet you! So what’s your name? Mine is –“_

 

\------

Allen woke up with a start, startled awake by a loud roar of thunder. For a moment he was disorientated and confused about where he was, unable to recognize his immediate surroundings. Part of him had expected the sound of a fan, the feeling warm air and the incessant bussing of mosquitos. What he got instead however, was low chatter from a TV and a chill at his distinct lack of a blanket.

‘ _London’_ he realized ‘ _I went back to London’_.

He must have fallen asleep on the couch. Kind of expected, really, with ow exhausted he had been

A look around quickly revealed that it had already gotten dark outside, the only light illuminating the room coming from the flickering images on TV. The steady drum of rain could be heard outside the window as another clap of thunder went off in the distance. Shivering slightly, Allen couldn’t help but think that the temperature must have also dropped significantly.

‘ _This is what it must feel like waking up in the middle of the Antarctic_ ’ he thought somewhat dramatically as pulled his legs up to his chest, hoping that curling up into a tight ball would warm him somehow. ‘ _It’s freezing. Was London always this cold_?’

The answer to this was probably yes if he was being honest. Most likely it wasn’t even as cold as he thought it to be and his current state of f _reezing to death,_ could easily be chalked up to his still being tired and having grown unused to the local climate.

‘ _Still’_ he thought petulantly ‘ _It has to be at least five degree minus’_.

Rolling over onto his other side he tried to get a better look at the TV, his eyes having a hard time focusing. At the corner of the screen he could make out the small numbers indicating the time: 11:32pm.

 _‘Five hour power nap huh?’_ he thought a little amused, before letting his eyes trail into the direction of where his room should be _‘I just wish I had remembered to take the blanket with me.’_

Forcing himself up with a tired groan, his eyes continued to look around the apartment. Like most things it looked slightly different in the dark and not for the first time Allen felt glad for having relatively good night-vision. Otherwise he would likely end up running into some walls, unfamiliar layout and all.

 Despite the visual differences however, the place still felt just as empty as it did before. No pictures, no decorations, no one else. For a second he nearly felt something like loneliness, before forcefully pushing it away. After all, there was no way he could possibly be missing Cross’s company of all things. Nu-uh. Nope. Ew. Never in a thousand years.

Looking at the table in front of him he realized that it was still littered with empty packages, but he neither knew how to even separate it properly nor if there even were rubbish bags stored in the apartment. There had been a pack of toilet paper in the laundry room so the chances weren’t too bad.

_‘And if not I’ll just buy some later today. Looks like I have yet another thing to add to my to-do-list. It’s getting quite long… maybe I should really start writing things down?’_

Finally getting fed up with sitting around and feeling cold, Allen stood up and stretched. The bone-deep tiredness from earlier in the day was gone, replaced by the normal level of grogginess that people had after waking up. But even that was fading fast and Allen was forced to realize that he would likely have a hard time falling asleep again.

‘ _Great, waking up just before midnight. So much for a healthy sleep rhythm’._

Trying to work out whether to go his room or stay in the living area, Allen glanced at the TV.  While BBC was still running, it seemed to have switched to a documentary on methamphetamines sometime during his sleep. Now though this had been interrupted by the usual string of commercials and advertisements, which would likely be followed by a short summary of the latest news.

 _‘Well, I **do** wonder how that hostage situation from before turned out’_ Allen mused as he considered his options, eventually deciding that _‘Living room it is’._

With another yet glance at the TV – as if to insure himself that it was still only advertisements running – Allen made a quick visit to his room to fetch his blanket and pillow. Just because he was spending the night in the living room didn’t mean he was planning on freezing to death after all.

He had just come back and huddled himself in the corner of the couch – now feeling pleasantly warm below his blanket – when the station finally switched away from the advertisements and onto the news segment.

 _“And now on more local news”_ the same male anchor from before started after having gone through a good five minutes of international politics _“A bank heist in London was stopped after a spectacular chase through the sky, as the culprits tried to flee in a helicopter they had smuggled in stored in a bag.”_

“A what now?” Allen couldn’t help but ask out loud in confusion, wondering if he had somehow misheard the reporter.

As the coverage continued however, he quickly realized that he hadn’t misheard him at all and that, indeed, someone had _smuggled a helicopter into a bank_ to use it for a quick get-away from said banks roof.

 Apparently one of the two robbers had the ability to change the size of objects, without destroying either their functionality or having to account for conservation of energy. Thus being able to shrink and de-shrink whatever he might need without destroying its functionality, the man and his partner had come up with the brilliant idea of taking with them a virtual arsenal of tools, weapons and…well a helicopter.

“Well, that’s definitely a first” Allen admitted, slightly impressed with the sheer daring of the whole plan.

“And what a useful ability to have. Just thinking about all the money one could make with it…” he trailed of as his thoughts spiralled into the mental mine-field that was Cross’s debts.

“Well they certainly thought about it too” he chucked to himself as he realized where his thoughts were heading “they just went about it a bit differently.”

For a second he wondered where they even got a helicopter _from_ , but quickly realized it didn’t matter as they could have simply stolen that too.

He couldn’t help but find the whole thing hilarious however, as the station started showing some of the footage from earlier in the night. According to the time stamp shown on-camera the whole thing had gone down sometime around nine in the evening. The coverage itself appeared to have been shot from a news-helicopter that was circling over the bank and showed two men running across the roof of the bank with nothing but a blue sports-bag.

In the background Allen could hear the female reporter musing to herself about what the robbers might have been planning to do from here, as they were appeared to be stuck on a roof with no way of escape and none of their hostages as a deterrent.

 _“Easy picking for the police_ ” she called them, _”a rather unspectacular end to what might have been a truly dangerous situation”._

The woman’s voice cut off however, when – from seemingly nowhere – a helicopter started to _grow_ from the middle of the roof.

“ _What the_ –“the reporter’s voice betrayed her disbelieve “ _is that a **helicopter**?”_

And wow, she sounded so _offended_ by the whole situation that Allen couldn’t help but burst into a fit of giggles.

 _‘I bet this was an instant viral hit’_ he thought amused, as he watched both men quickly get into the helicopter and quickly take off. Down below the police seemed to be scrambling about, unsure of what to do at the unexpected turn of events.

‘ _All in all, not a completely horrible escape plan._ ’

It wasn’t as if they could simply shoot them down after all. Not only would it likely be undue violence as no lives were at risk, but no one would be dumb enough to shoot down a giant hunk of metal right above a city. The only problem would be the question of where to land and Allen suspected that was likely where the whole thing had eventually gone wrong. He was however willing to give them 9 out of 10 points for the sheer hilarity of the situation. If they hadn’t ended up getting caught he’d likely have given them a perfect score, really.

This however was when things took another interesting turn.

Allen had fully expected them to fuck up the landing or get accosted once on the ground. Believing that there wasn’t much to be done while they were still air-bone, as all the other helicopters could do was to try and follow the escapees.

He was proven wrong however, when a black and red streak shot by one of the news-helicopters and towards the one of the robbers.

 _“It looks like one of London’s better known heroes has decided to intervene_!” the reporter exclaimed in poorly contained excitement as the camera zoomed in on the other flying object.

_“Lady Skywalker has arrived on the scene and is currently trying to keep up with the fleeing robbers!”_

 From what Allen could make out in the footage, Lady Skywalker – and was that a _Star Wars_ reference? Who came up with that name? – was a slim woman, dressed in a red dress-like costume with knee-high black boots, long black gloves and shoulder-long flowing turquoise hair.

She was also currently flying through the air at breakneck speed.

 _‘This is not so much her trying to keep up with the helicopter as it is the helicopter trying to keep up with her’_ Allen mentally corrected the reporter after watching her trail after the black monstrosity for a few seconds, keeping exact pace with it.

_‘She was definitely faster before, otherwise she wouldn’t have caught up to them in the first place. Which means she is either still planning on what to do, or waiting for an opportune moment to strike.’_

Allen was proven right when the footage jumped forward a bit and the male anchor’s voice could be heard over the video feed again.

 _“Lady Skywalker struck as the robbers tried to cross over the Thames towards South-London”_ he explained and Allen watched in fascination as the helicopter was practically ripped backwards for no apparent reason at all.

But judging from the way Lady Skywalker’s – no, really what was with hat name? Not that it didn’t _fit_ , but still… - hair and clothes whipped around her, Allen suspected that a strong wind had caught the copter.

Within seconds the wind was had started not only forcing the helicopter backwards – it’s rotating blades coming dangerously close to collapsing – but had started spinning the whole thing around, as a tornado slowly started forming around it.

“Woah” Allen stared in amazement as the helicopter was slowly forced into a downwards-spiral towards the river’s surface “That’s some scary power right there.”

Wind powers were one thing. However, being able to create winds of not only immense strength but also _accuracy_? That was another story entirely.

To his disappointment said story seemed to be getting to a close though.

He knew the fun was over as soon as the helicopter touched ground – or water in this case – and started to slowly sink into the dark waters below. The only noteworthy thing that really happened from here on was that Lady Skywalker swooped down to pick both of the robbers out of the water to make sure they didn’t accidentally drown due to the suction. However, instead of placing them somewhere from where they could run, the female hero put each of them on the edge of one of the closest bridge’s pillars.

_‘Power, control and smarts, huh? Wouldn’t expect less of a hero from a city as important as London.’_

After all, the hero business was one of the hardest and most competitive ones around.

Allen could vaguely remember Cross telling him about how the last two or so generations had experienced a noticeable surge in the number of people born with some type of special ability – making it roughly one in a thousand.

For a city like London, with a population close to nine million, this would mean a good nine-thousand superpowered individuals running around in its streets. And while only half of those might have abilities that were both suited and strong enough for them to even consider becoming a hero, those that _did_ have a useful ability had a surprisingly high tendency to try it out.

Allen suspected it had a lot to do with the ‘coolness’ factor of the whole thing and the incredible popularity that heroes had with the general public. They were a bit like popstars in that manner. Each of them having their own fanbase that not only cheered them on, but also bought merchandise and likely dreamed about dating them or something.

‘ _But not everyone that can sing has what it takes to be a rockstar_ ’ he mused a little sardonically.

Because just as being a famous singer took more than just a good voice, being a hero took more than having some handy superpowers. Usually it didn’t take all that long for new, rising ‘heroes’ to realize that the reality of the job was quite different from what they had imagined.

Saving the day was all fine and well, until it meant actually putting yourself in danger that is. Many new heroes would stop after getting seriously hurt for the first time, seeing something traumatic or being confronted of the very real possibility of _dying on the job._

Not that Allen blamed them. Not everyone was cut out for this line of work after all, and the sooner they realized this, the better.

But even between those that decided to stay despite the dangers, many would be forced to quit within the first year. Sometimes this was simply for personal reasons, such as worried families, a stressful job or not enjoying the work. Other times however the problem was a far more basic one, namely having ones identity discovered.

While there were a handful of heroes in the world that didn’t hide their real identity (one walking, talking annoyance coming to mind in particular), most decided to separate their superhero identity from their civilian completely. And for good reasons too.

After all, as popular as heroes might be, they were still the number one target of not only so-called villains, but also – and far more horrifyingly - the concentrated attention of the press.

And as any true Brit knew, nothing was as brutal as British tabloids.

It wasn’t just being in the crossfire of the local gossip mill that was the problem here either. Despite their often sensationalist articles, most of London’s tabloid reporters were ridiculously dedicated to their job. Or at least lacking an understanding of the concept of privacy enough, that some of them actively stalked out both people and places.

This, combined with the fact that most meta-humans didn’t exactly plan far enough ahead to make sure their identity was safe – bragging about your superpowers on the schoolyard was a prime example of what not to do – was usually a sure-fire way to finding one’s face plastered across the front page of the next morning’s Sun.

However, all that this really amounted to in the end, was that the few individuals that managed to not only become, but _remain_ as part of any major city’s hero league, were incredibly capable individuals that knew exactly what they were doing.

Just like that woman, Lady Skywalker.

Thinking about this, Allen felt weirdly put out for a moment, regretting not to have watched the whole spectacle first hand. TV footage only showed so much after all. Maybe if he hadn’t fallen asleep before things got truly interesting, he could at least have gotten a _look._ It would have been a nice first-hand experience with one of London’s heroes at the very least.

 _‘Nah it’s probably better this way.’_ He tried to reassure himself as he watched the post- interview with Lady Skywalker, noting for the first time that most of her upper face was covered by a red mask. _‘I’ll meet them soon enough after all.’_

 

\-------------

By the time it had started to dawn, Allen was already dressed and ready to leave the house for the day.

In the end, he hadn’t been able to fall asleep again. Instead he had ended up watching an entire history marathon on ancient Egypt on TV. He knew that by the time afternoon hit he would likely have to keep himself awake by consuming copious amounts of caffeine and keeping himself moving. And while buying coffee would certainly eat up the rest of his finances, the moving part at least was gratis.

‘ _So, what do I have to do today?’_ he tried to go through his mental to-do list, pulling his white hair back into a short ponytail at the base of his neck. ‘ _First I should probably get some more money. Then a new bank account and maybe a job if possible.’_

He frowned, feeling that he was forgetting something. _‘And groceries! But there was something else…what was it again?’_

His brows furrowed further as he got the feeling that he was forgetting something of actual importance for once. It definitely wasn’t the phone, or the internet – those were luxuries and would come later. Rather, he had the creeping suspicion that whatever he was forgetting had something to do with Cross Marian. Not all that surprising when considering that he was actively trying to suppress most things related to that man.

_‘Well, whatever. If I can’t remember it, it couldn’t have been that important in the first place. But I should really have written this down. A new note-book would definitely be a good idea too.’_

Throwing on his jacket and pulling on his gloves – old and well-worn like most of his things – he checked to make sure he had his purse, keys and ID papers, before leaving the apartment to make his way into the livelier parts of town.

Stepping outside, Allen took a deep breath.

The air outside was still cool and slightly damp from last night’s rain. The orange-yellow glow from the rising sun blinded him as he walked along the streets and he found himself forced to constantly blink against its rays. A look up at the sky revealed no clouds, only an empty blue expanse that promised a sunny day.

London’s weather was a tricky thing though, and Allen knew better than to trust the early morning signs.

The teen found his way back to Oxford-street quickly, following the same landmarks as last time. Once there however, he was hit with the sudden realization that most shops were either still closed, or in the process of opening.

‘ _Of course’_ he thought slightly annoyed with himself ‘ _It’s still too early. People need some time to get to work after all._

The only places already open were bakeries and coffee-shops. But since Allen had already eaten breakfast (leftovers from the previous night) and the coffee still had to wait, neither option was all that interesting at the moment.

“At least one more hour before the banks open” Allen mumbled to himself, as he _observed_ the different men and women that pass by him in a hurry “So what to do until then?”

He could go back home of course, it wasn’t far after all. But for some reason that option wasn’t appealing to him right now. He was already out and about after all, and it wasn’t like there was much to do for him back at the apartment.

“Just…walking it is then.”

That sounded about right. Walking was always a good thing. He could nearly hear a voice telling him–

He shook his head in order to clear it. He needed to stop drifting off all the time…

But walking it was.

If he had time to spare, he might as well re-familiarize himself with his surroundings again. It wasn’t even like he had lived in this particular part of London before, so there was a lot left to discover.

Pivoting to his left, Allen made his way towards where he knew Hyde Park to be located. He was lucky enough to live right next to one of the bigger city parks, so he should at least enjoy it a little.

The park itself was rather open, with straight paths running through it in geometrical shapes. Through the middle of the park ran a lake, cutting the area in half and with a big bridge leading over it in the middle. While Allen’s side of the Park held some open lawns, trees and a couple of smaller buildings and kiosks; the closer he got to the bridge, the better he could make a big, castle-like structure on the other side of the lake. It had a very well-groomed garden and there was another, rounder pond in front of it.

Despite it looking weirdly familiar, Allen couldn’t quite place a name on it.

But it was definitely possible that he had been in this particular park before. In fact, he felt almost certain. Even if he couldn’t remember ever visiting Hyde Park specifically, that hardly meant anything. He had always had a horrible sense of orientation after all. Plus, he often confused similar looking places with each other, so he was probably just overthinking this.

Still, a small degree of confusion remained and he had the unsettling feeling as if the way or perspective in which he was seeing things was slightly _off_.

‘ _It doesn’t really matter. It’s probably nothing at all.’_

Continuing his way over the bridge and further down the pathway, Allen quickly came closer to the edge of the park. While he had not crossed straight to the other side, the main path leading to a left-side exit instead. The buildings on this side looked a little fancier and continued to grow fancier the further to the right he looked.

Worried that he might get lost after all, Allen decided to turn left instead, basically walking in a square and hoping to get back to where originally came from. He seemed to be on a main road at least, so he could likely do little wrong by following it to the end. Or until he found an open bank. Or a wanted sign. Or something.

 

\------------

Okay, so he was lost after all. No biggy.

Happened all the time, really.

And it wasn’t even all that bad this time, because while he didn’t know _how_ he had gotten there, he at least knew _where_ he was. Kind of hard not to know, considering all the lanterns, semi-oriental architecture and the numerous Asian restaurants and signs.

This was definitely China Town.

After following the left-side street along Hyde Park for a good fifteen minutes, Allen had suddenly found himself hitting well-known landmarks. Passing by another city park that connected corners with Hyde Park, he had found himself at Piccadilly Circus, Leicester Square and finally China Town.

And, wow, he hadn’t realized how _close_ he now lived to everything. He couldn’t have walked for more than twenty minutes after all.

Looking around in wonder and taking in the different sights and smells Allen couldn’t help but be reminded of the many months he had spent in China.

It was just when he passed around a corner, lost in between thoughts of ‘ _wonder how Anita is doing’_ and _‘maybe I can buy meat buns here’_ , when he collided with something.

“Woah!” he cried out as he stumbled backwards a step, before realizing what he had run into.

“Watch out!” a female voice called back as the high stack of boxes the other was carrying tipped precariously tipped forward.

Reacting quickly, Allen pushed against them with his forearms, barely managing to stabilize them and keep them from falling on him.

“I’m so sorry” he apologized, only letting go of the boxes when it looked like they were stable again. “I didn’t look where I was going. Are you alright?”

“Oh, don’t worry!” came a slightly breathless sounding reply “Nothing happened after all. And it was my fault as well, since it’s not like I can exactly see where I’m going either.”

Which was likely true, considering the tower of boxes was high enough to cover her entire face.

“Uhm, would you like some help with this?” Allen asked, watching in slight trepidation as the stack swayed slightly to right.

“Thank you, but I’ll be fine” the other laughed back as the tower swayed to the left “I do this all the time and really wouldn’t want to hold you up.”

 “You really wouldn’t” Allen responded, putting as much sincerity in his voice as he could “I don’t have anywhere to be and I would be glad to help.”

“Uhm” the box-girl hesitated for a moment “Well, if that’s true then I guess I’d gladly accept your help.”

“Sure thing” Allen chuckled, grabbing onto a box roughly two thirds down from the top and lifting the upper half of the stack away from the girl.

“Where to?” he asked, looking over to the girl. Now that he could actually see her face, he could tell that she must have been Chinese, with short-cropped green hair and lilac eyes. Judging by her dress – a red Cheongsam – and the fact that the boxes she was carrying looked suspiciously like those used to keep food warm, there was a good possibility that she was working in one of the local restaurants.

“Straight ahead” she smiled back “And thank you for the help. By the way, I’m Lenalee Lee and you are?”

 

“I’m Allen. Allen Walker. Nice to meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much disposition, I’m sorry. I promise the story will get moving soon. At least we meet our first hero(ine) and I can honestly say every member of our four main dgm-main cast members has been mentioned. 
> 
> Can you guys guess who’s totally responsible for ‘Lady Skywalker’? 
> 
> Also, random hints everywhere! Some of them quite obvious, others…less so. But let’s just say I’m trying to be accurate when it comes to London’s map. :P  
> If you want to see Lenalee’s costume (boots are different) you can go on my tumblr: http://theannieparadigm.tumblr.com/image/163239154783


End file.
